Page 40 of Bad Luck Vampire

Pausing at the door, she swung back. “Maybe we should just eat in the break room.”

When Alasdair paused, and glanced around with surprise, she added, “There’s a table and chairs in there and only one chair in here, so...” She shrugged.

Nodding, Alasdair began to stack the containers back on the pizzas again. “Good thinking, Sophie Ferguson. Let’s do it.”

Smiling, she opened the door and then rushed back to gather the bottles of pop again before leading him to the break room.

It was really the oddest thing, but once in the break room the atmosphere between them totally changed. All the sexual tension seemed to evaporate as they worked together to gather plates, glasses, forks, and napkins, then got ice for their drinks while they heated up the plates of pizza they chose.

While Sophie took a slice of the meat lovers, Alasdair decided to try a slice from each of three pizzas, the meat lovers, the deluxe, and the Hawaiian. They popped each plate in the microwave and then settled at the table where Alasdair shrugged out of the black leather jacket he was wearing with black jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt. They then fell into a brief silence while they began to eat.

Sophie was about halfway through her first piece when Alasdair suddenly commented, “You called Megan’s mother ‘Mama.’”

Pausing, she glanced over at him with confusion for a minute, and then recalled saying something to Megan about not passing up Mama’s cooking. Smiling, she nodded slowly. “I call Deb and George Mama and Papa at home, and have done since I was about fifteen. I just don’t usually do it at work or... well, anywhere else really.”

“You said they didn’t adopt you, though,” he reminded her. “Did you want them to?”

Sophie considered the question and then slowly shook her head. “I was fourteen when they took me in, nearly an adult,” she pointed out. “Besides, I already had parents. My mom and dad were good people. Great parents. The love and acceptance they gave me...” She shook her head. “No one could replace them.”

“So you called your foster parents Mama and Papa rather than Mom and Dad as a way to . . .” He hesitated, a frown claiming his lips as he tried to find the right term to use. Finally, he said, “Differentiate them? They were Mama and Papa, not your mom and dad?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it,” Sophie admitted with a wry smile. “I love them and appreciate everything they’ve done for me and wanted to honor that. But I didn’t want to have to replace my parents to do it,” she explained slowly, and then grimaced. “Megan and Bobby were bugging me to call them Mom and Dad. They wanted their parents to adopt me even. At least Megan did. I don’t think Bobby cared one way or another, but Megan was really pushing for it.”

“Why wouldn’t Bobby care?” Alasdair asked with curiosity.

“Well, we can hardly marry when I turn forty if we’re legally brother and sister,” she pointed out with amusement, and when his eyes widened incredulously, she laughed at his expression. “We made a deal as teenagers, if neither of us is married by the time I turn forty we’ll marry each other. It’s mostly a joke,” she added quickly when his mouth began to turn down. “Neither of us see each other that way. I mean, there’s no attraction between us. He really is like a big brother to me, and I can’t even imagine...” She made a face and shook her head at the very thought of having any kind of sexual relationship with him.

Sighing, she pushed the thought away and said, “As to why Bobby wouldn’t care . . .” She shrugged. “He was a boy and two years older than us. I don’t think he cared much about anything as a teenager. But as far as he was concerned, I was family, with or without a piece of paper stating it. He always treated me like a ‘bratty little pain in the butt’ sister just like Megan.”

“Huh,” Alasdair muttered, and took another bite of pizza, his expression thoughtful.

A moment of silence passed as they both ate, and then Sophie said, “One of your uncles said you were born in Scotland, but then moved to America.” At least that was the gist of what the man had said. Though he’d used a more colorful phrase as she recalled. Something about jumping ship to the Americas and breaking his mother’s heart, or the like.

“I did,” Alasdair acknowledged. “Colle and I both moved to America some years back.”

“How many years back and why?” Sophie asked at once.

Alasdair was silent for a minute, but finally said, “Colle.”

“Your brother?” she asked with surprise. “He wanted to come over? You didn’t?”

“I did,” he assured her. “But really Colle was the driving force that had us leaving home.”

“Why did he want to leave Scotland?” she asked with interest.

“Mostly our family,” Alasdair said slowly, and then explained, “We have a large one, with lots of aunts and uncles and great-aunts and great-uncles, very few of whom have had children of their own yet, so they were all very...”

When he paused, seeming at a loss for how to describe the issue, Sophie suggested, “In your business?”

“Basically,” he admitted. “Although they would have called it interested and concerned.”

“Right.” She nodded solemnly, but thought definitely in their business.

“Besides, there were certain expectations in the family. It was intended that we would join the family business and take up jobs at one of the family golf clubs. But Colle and I weren’t really interested in that. It sounded boring and sedate to us. We were more interested in adventuring.”

“So, you became policemen?” Sophie asked with amusement. She doubted being a policeman in Canada was much of an adventure. It wasn’t exactly a hotbed of crime here compared to New York, and she suspected his job consisted mostly of writing speeding tickets and handling calls about domestic disputes. Although, she supposed it might have been a more interesting career in New York. But still not an adventure, Sophie thought as she grabbed her plate and stood to get another piece of pizza.

“Do you want anything while I’m up?” she asked as she grabbed another slice as well as a couple of wings, two breaded mushrooms, and a deep-fried battered pickle. She didn’t bother with the shrimp. She’d never cared for shrimp, so left them for Alasdair.

---